Buried Memories
by eccentricrabbit
Summary: Terrible memories are dredged up for Bones when Booth gets a new case. A girl raped and brutally murdered. Why does this affect Brennan so? Brennan/Booth sort of REVISED
1. Memories best left forgotten

**Title: **Buried Memories

**Author: **Little Miss Defensive &

**Rating: **R17

**Pairing: **Brennan/Booth (eventually)

**Summary: **A murder hits too close to home for Bones. (Figuratively & literally) and brings back memories that would have been best left forgotten.

**Authors Note: **I just want to warn you that this fic involves **rape **and **depression**...If you don't like reading about it, please don't read this. I don't want to trigger anyone. :(

**Chapter 1: Memories Best Left Forgotten.**

_Are you alright?_

Three little words were my undoing.

I pride myself for being in control of my emotions most of the time. Sure I've been through some tough times, who hasn't? But I try not to dwell on things that have happened in the past. Until now that is. I lifted my head out of my hands, and leant my back against the bathroom wall. What exactly had I done to tip him off that something was wrong?

I had been sitting in my office, reading the paper. It was then I'd noticed the article. The girl, not so far from my own home... raped and beaten to death. The suspected rapist, Thomas Benson rang alarm bells in my head. "Just call me Uncle Tommy," a horrible, mocking voice rattled around in my head. I had sat in shock for a bit, and then folded the newspaper, and pulled out my "thinking" bone as I'd called it. I'd been given a fibula many years ago when I'd first begun my job. No other bones from the body had been found. But the young man, who had given it to me, was certain it was his brothers. When I needed time to think, without getting emotional I focused on the fibula. On the small nutrient foramen, on the yellowed edge to the bone, the weight of it in my hand. At the same time, I ran through the names of my foster siblings, the ones that had lived with 'Uncle Tommy,' too. I hadn't lived there long, but long enough for...

"Bones,"

"What?" I had tried not to keep my facial expression neutral. But his brow was furrowed in concern, as always, he knew something was up.

"Are you alright?" The bone slid from my fingers, and clunked onto the table. I didn't trust myself to speak; I could feel the tears welling behind my eyes. The memories from Uncle Tommy's grotty house, the smell of urine, the smell of blood...

"Yes," I managed to choke out. But it was obviously not true, since even as I had said the word I could taste the salty tears on my lips. I licked them clean, and swiped at the tears on my face uselessly. He was at my side in seconds, his hand on my shoulder, genuine concern on his face. I cleared my throat as quietly as possible..."No," I'd admitted and pulled free of his hand, and walked as purposely as possible for my office door, which had never seemed so far away from my desk before. My hand trembled, and it took a couple of tries for me to even open the door. Breathe Temperance. Breathe. I'd reminded myself.

And here I am, hiding out in the bathroom. Only just able to hold myself together now ten minutes or so later. Knocking on the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts.

"Bones, are you alright?" I breathed deeply.

"I'm fine," I called back, glad to hear my voice didn't sound as shaky as it had back in my office.

"Can you come out now?"

"No." _No, no. I can't control myself properly yet._

"Can I come in?"

"No!" I exclaimed. Does he not understand?

There was silence on the other side of the door, and I felt guilty. I stretched forward and opened the door, but sat back down. He edged his rather large body through the door, and shut it behind him. I was surprised he hadn't told everyone else, and made them come to my "rescue" too. It seemed like something he would do. But it was only him outside the door.

"What's going on?" He asked.

I had my knees tucked up to my chest. He stroked my hair, his fingers brushed down my jaw and then down my arm, and finally rested on my hand which was on my knee. Where his fingers touched burned, and it was a welcomed distraction. Did he know that he did that to me? We tried so hard to keep our relationship platonic. But I'm sure he must feel the sexual attraction. It's just normal. Two strong, healthy and intelligent humans working so closely together...? It was inevitable... the instinct to breed was going to happen eventually. That's what sexual attraction is really, it's just that people like to ignore that part of it, and use contraception, people like myself who had no plans of having children in the future.

"Thomas Benson," I said quietly. Booth's brow furrowed once more, and I reached my free hand up to smooth it. He was crouching uncomfortably, but didn't choose to sit. Although, I'm not sure he'd have been able to in the small bathroom stall we were in right now, so maybe he didn't have any choice_ but_ to crouch.

"What about him?" He asked, I left my hand lightly resting on his forehead, and felt his brow wrinkle, and it stayed that way. He was worried.

"When will they release the victim's name?"

"Hopefully within the next couple of days..." He told me; squeezing my knee gently.

"I'll know more, and be able to explain myself when I know her name." I admitted. "I'll explain it then." I paused, and finally managed to look him in the eyes. "I promise."

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No,"

"Let me re-word that. I _am_ driving you home." Booth responded to my defiant no. "There is no need to get so defensive Bones; I'm just trying to help."

I gave in. Easier to be driven I guessed than to be driving back to my empty apartment by myself in this kind of mood. But I put up the usual struggle, and grumbled all the way to the car to make sure he didn't think something _more_ was wrong with me. The worried sick look on his face made me feel guilty enough as it was. What if I was wrong? Maybe it wasn't _Uncle Tommy_ after all.

**TBC**

**I wrote down my ideas for this a couple of years ago. But I've re-written it. Is it okay? Please me gentle, haven't written in quite some time!**

**It has to drag a bit in this chapter. It'll get more interesting soon, promise.**


	2. Uncle Tommy

**Chapter 2: Uncle Tommy**

I lay in bed, cold and clammy but unable to move. I'd had nightmares on and off all night, which I suppose was to be expected. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in my curtains, and I could hear the birds outside. I fumbled for my cell phone on my bedside table, finally finding it, after knocking an empty glass of water onto the ground. Or hopefully empty, I wasn't getting out of bed yet. The little blue envelope in the top corner of the screen on my phone told me I had a message. _'I hope you're okay. Sleep well.'_ It was from Booth. I contemplated sending a text back, but images from my dreams kept coming to the forefront of my mind, and he didn't need to be any more worried. I checked the alarm on my phone, still set. I relaxed back into the cushions and let my phone fall beside me. Maybe I could get an hour or so of sleep before work.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I heard was the piercing noise of my alarm. I switched it to snooze. Seconds later the alarm sounded again, although it can't have been seconds, it had to be ten minutes. I hit snooze once more. Again before I knew it, the alarm was off again. I exited the screen, and rolled away from my phone. Bloody alarm, I just needed to rest my eyes a few more minutes... But my phone went off yet _again_, but this time I had a message. I sighed. Being lazy was obviously not an option this morning. '_I'll pick you up in twenty minutes and take you into work. Ok?'_ Oh crap. That's right; my car is back at work. I slipped out from under the covers, they were twisted and half off the bed by this stage. I jumped as I stepped into something cold and wet. What on earth...? I moved the glass with my toe. I didn't have _time_ for mess this morning. But I rushed off to get a towel to soak up the water I had spilt earlier knocking things off my bedside table.

I managed to be dressed and ready, and even calm before Booth arrived. I doubted anyone could see the turmoil beneath my calm facade today. Possibly Booth, but he was trained in being observant like that. Maybe Angela. She seems intuitive about how the people around here are feeling more often than not. But the rest of the 'squints'... No they wouldn't have a clue.

The doorbell rang interrupting my thoughts. I looked around her combined lounge and kitchen one last time. Everything switched off? Yes. Windows shut? Yes. I greeted Booth with the normal "good morning," and locked the doors behind me. Just a normal day. _Normal day._ I told myself. Nothing has changed.

"Anything new on the Prophet case...?" I asked, referring to the case of a young woman's bones they'd found a week and a half ago. They'd learned her identity by a pin found in her elbow. Horse-riding accident when she was just fifteen. They'd found cause of death, blunt force trauma to the frontal bone... there were various other injuries to the rest of the body suggesting that the young woman, Cassandra Prophet was beaten to death. So far we hadn't been able to narrow down a murder weapon.

"No, still no-one has come forward to say they know Cassandra. No-one has filed a missing persons report either." We were in the SUV now. He was surreptitiously looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

"You can stop that now. I'm not going to break down. I'm fine. I'll speak to you when I am sure of what's going on. I reacted badly yesterday; I have no proof... nothing to say that it's _him_."

"You just reacted like any normal person in a situation that hits close to home... Because obviously you know who Thomas Benson is... And-"

"-Booth," I cut in. "I don't want to speak about it."

"The victims name is Maria." I searched my memories, drawing up a blank. There was Jeremy, the Benson's biological son. A weird but harmless young boy. Yvonne and Beatrice... and Mary Jane, but she was just a baby at the time so I didn't remember much about her. Not that I could remember a lot about the time at all. I'd never tried to look back on it until now; I had blocked the memories from my mind as soon as I left the house. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I was wrong, it wasn't him! My body relaxed.

"I don't know..."

"You would have known her as Mary Jane back then." He said quietly. Why did he sound like he... _knew_? I tensed once more, and suppressed the tears I could feel building up again. "I had to research him... after your reaction." Anger shot through me. He would know everything. Know about Beatrice telling the school teacher about Uncle Tommy; how the police turned up... how we were removed from his home.

"Did he only molest Beatrice?"

"No," he pulled into a car park and switched the engine off, but made no move to get out.

"Are you going to explain, you said you would?" He touched my hand. "I'm not pushing you, but sometimes it's better to talk about it."

"I did, I got sent to psychologists and psychiatrists at the time. I had already buried the memories even by that early stage." I leant back. "I was the last foster kid to arrive at the house. Beatrice scared me. She was the eldest girl until I came along, she was twelve. Yvonne was nine. She and Beatrice arrived within days of each other, and were attached at the hip. I believe he only ever... touched Beatrice at first." I trailed off. "Look Booth... now isn't the time." A pain in my chest caused me to stop speaking altogether. "I can't..." I opened the car door.

Darkness had enveloped me once more. Just like the time when I lived in the house. Everything looked bleak. No-one cared enough to report Cassandra missing, why bother finding the murderer when no-one still alive cared enough about her? How did Mary Jane, or Maria end up back in the hands of Uncle Tommy? I tuned out Booth's voice, ignored whatever the guards tried to say to me, ignored Hodgin's, and slammed and locked my office door. What was the point in being here?

I lowered myself onto the couch. The emotional pain was so terrible that it felt physical. I curled my knees towards my chest, rested my head on my hands, and closed my eyes.

**TBC?**


	3. Memories

**Chapter 3: Memories**

**Authors Note:** Sorry it took time to update this time! I had 7 kittens to bottle feed, and 5 other self-feeding kittens to take care of... on top of all my own animals, AND work. I was pretty darn tired! (I work at the SPCA, and do emergency bottle-feeding etc. So late night calls from the inspectors come every now and again during kitten season!)

I'd been staring at Cassandra's skull for quite some time. Completely absorbed in trying to picture what kind of weapon could cause the fracture in the skull. It was pointless really; it wouldn't hold up in court if I said, "well, after spending an hour staring at her skull I decided it was a hammer." Guesswork wasn't good enough. I had Zach and Hodgins deciding on a way to experiment with different weapons. I hoped they didn't go for the pig heads I'd heard Hodgin's muttering about. I suppressed a shudder. Even if they are dead, it makes me feel queasy. And seeing them do it would make what happened to Cassandra so much more real.

The phone ringing startled me. It took a moment for me to get my breathing back under control. I may have fooled everyone apart from Booth today into thinking that I was fine, but inside I was jumpy as hell. And the moment I was in my office, blinds down, door shut, I let my guard down.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Brennan speaking." I answered my voice thankfully sounding steadier than I'd thought it would.

"Hey Bones,"

"Hi Booth," I answered. Something on the Cassandra case I hoped. I still wasn't ready to process everything I'd found out so far about Thomas Benson... and Maria/Mary Jane. I couldn't help but think of her as Mary Jane.

"How are you feeling?"

"Booth... What is it?" I tried not to be too short with him, but I was getting sick of the coddling. There was a long silence.

"Cassandra's foster mum contacted me. Or her old foster mum, Cassandra moved out four years ago, and lived alone in an apartment... actually just down the street from me." He spoke to me as a professional; not a friend, which I appreciated.

"Great, are you going to interview her?"

"Yes, later this afternoon. Did you want to be there?" He sounded hopeful. I knew he thought I would be ready to talk. But at this rate, I was wondering if I should just make a run for it. Move to Australia or something.

"If it's not a problem. Yes."

"I'll pick you up at three." Friendly voice now.

"Sure." I hung up before he could say anything more. I took the skull back to sit with the rest of the skeleton, glad not to see anyone on my way there. I couldn't avoid them forever; and I had promised Booth I would speak to him so I knew eventually I would have to suck it up. But at the moment, I was quite happy to live in my head and deal with it myself as best as I could.

Back in my office, I switched on my laptop. Ignored the emails. 23 emails? I was a bit behind. And that was only my work email! Being an author meant I had many more emails to go through in my spare time. I brought up Google, and typed in "Thomas Benson." Good old Google. So many results to weed through though. I sighed. No, I wasn't looking for Thomas Benson the executive director of a museum in New York who liked yachting. Nor was I looking for the author. Finally, on the second page I came across a small article, virtually telling me exactly what I read in the first article I found. At least I found the right Thomas Benson? I kept looking, but came up with nothing. It was only lunchtime by this point so I locked my office door, and lay back on the couch.

_"Hello Temperance," a shiver ran up my spine at the sight of him. He looked normal. Average weight, average looking face, brown eyes. But it was his facial expression, and his stance. He had a look on his face like he'd just got ten Christmas presents at once, and he stood his feet slightly apart telling me he was confident... and over-bearing. I took a step back nearly tripping over in my hurry._

_"Answer him," my caregiver urged, with a sharp poke into my side._

_"Hello," I responded coldly, glad my voice wasn't shaking like my knees were. Two blonde haired girls poked their heads out of a door further down the hall._

_"I'm going to love having you here." He told me. Placing his hand on my shoulder, nearly making me collapse with the weight. "I'll show you to your room."_

_I shared a room with the blonde haired girls, who I soon learned were named Beatrice and Yvonne. Beatrice was silent, and sat very still on the edge of her bed. Every time someone moved a little faster than normal she would flinch. Something was wrong in this house; I knew it even then; ten minutes into my stay there. Yvonne kept me busy showing me her book collection and telling me all about the characters in her books. She was bubbly, and almost too happy. I think back now, and realise it was her defence mechanism._

_"Come say Good night to Uncle Tommy, Beatrice." I glanced up from one of Yvonne's books. Beatrice stood up, and dragged her feet as she followed my new foster dad out of the room. The muffled screams that followed, I would never forget._

_"Say good night to Uncle Tommy, Yvonne." Beatrice came back in, face blotchy from tears. Did he think I wouldn't know something was going on? Once he had left the room with Yvonne I sat on the bed next to Beatrice. She was curled up, her knees to her chest, and her hair covering her face._

_"What happened, Beatrice?" She tucked herself in further. I moved away, and slipped under the covers of my own bed. Terror made me sick to my stomach, and my head pounded. Did I run? But I didn't know what was going on, really... at that stage anyway._

I had to make a dash to the bathroom to throw up after waking up. I could still just about hear Beatrice's screams in my head. My throat felt achy, and my head was pounding but I still managed to wash my face to try and make myself look normal for when Booth arrived. How was I going to talk about all this, especially when I had reacted so badly? My hands trembled as I pushed my hair away from my face, and I took a deep breath as I readied myself to talk to Booth. It was going to happen today, I was certain of that.

**TBC**


	4. Beatrice's Confession

**Chapter 4: Beatrice's Confession**

**Authors Note: **I really appreciate your reviews. :-) Review's always make me more enthusiastic about writing the next chapter. I'm excited to get further into my story. Sometimes my updates are going to be really fast, sometimes a bit slower... depending on how often I'm working/whether I have insomnia! (Like tonight, and last night.)

Marsha. I didn't like that name. It made me think of a girl I once knew. She had dusty brown hair, freckles, glasses, and a forgettable face. But to top it off she was bossy as hell, and was the biggest tattle tale in the school. She would tell on people for sharpening their bloody pencils too much. Or having their shoe laces untied. Any chance to suck up, she would have taken it. But here I was, sitting across from another Marsha. A more motherly Marsha, with black hair rather than brown, Cassandra's foster mom. She seemed a bit brighter too, a bit more independent I figured seeing as she fostered.

"Hello Ms. Adams." Booth greeted her kindly, and held out his hand. "Seeley Booth, this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan." A flashback of my dream earlier made me freeze, my hands curl into fists. Forget it Brennan, _forget it_. I told myself. I managed to control my breathing, and stop my face from contorting in pain.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said. It seemed only Booth noticed something wrong with me. Marsha just gave me a sad smile.

"I have fostered many children over the years Dr. Brennan, I have lost more than just Cassandra." I knew she didn't just mean _lost_ as in _died_. A lot of foster children ended up in prison, or on the streets. It was the way it was, it seemed. Almost impossible to prevent though. No matter how fantastic the child's foster-parents might be. It's the fact that their parents _don't_ want them, _can't_ have them.

"But in such a brutal fashion Ms. Adams, I'm sure that's not common?" Booth questioned. Marsha winced.

"Yes... and..." She trailed off. "Cassandra has already been through one horrible time in her life. It pains me to think that-" Marsha suddenly got choked up, as if she had control of her emotions to begin with but couldn't hold it in any longer. She swiped at the tears. Booth and I waited patiently for her to get herself under control again. Booth patted her arm, and handed her a tissue. I wished she would just hold herself together until after she'd given us information that might help with Cassandra's case. "Cassandra was raped at her first foster home." She admitted.

"Do you remember who her first foster-parents were?" I asked.

"No, the child & family services will have the records still I'm sure. I of course don't have access to it." She told us. Something told me she had managed to at least catch a glimpse at Cassandra's records at some time or another by the guilty look on her face. Marsha looked at me for a long moment, and then rummaged through her bag. Eventually she slapped a scratched and old photo onto the table in front of me.

Like I was watching myself from across the room, I leapt out of my chair. I backed away from Booth and Marsha, wishing everything would just go away. Could I not focus on Cassandra without my past coming into it?

"She took this photo from the home. I must say, these young ones don't look particularly happy. On the back is written Uncle Tommy." Booth pushed his chair back.

"Could we leave the interview at this for today Ms. Adams?" I saw the fear written on his face. "I need to speak to Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, I'm sure you do." She looked from the photo to me once more. So she wasn't like the Marsha I knew at all, she was observant, and sharp to have picked up the resemblance from a picture of the fifteen year old me, to me now. For one irrational minute, all I could focus on was the fact that I still didn't like the name Marsha. And that this Marsha appeared to be one of those over-bearing mother figures that forced all her foster children to call her 'mom.' Marsha touched my arm as she left. "I'm sorry."

Booth drove me back to my apartment in silence; he followed me up the stairs and made himself comfortable on one of my couches. I perched nervously on the edge of the one across from him, and looked down at my hands.

"He was my first foster-parent. We called him 'Uncle Tommy,'" I began, my voice strong. "I heard the screams from Beatrice the first night. I had an inkling of what was going on. I stayed at child & family services for a few weeks before finding a foster home. And I had been warned of men who came and specifically asked for _girls_. Back then, background checks on potential foster-parents were rarely done. They were just relieved to get us into a "home" and out of their hair." I admitted, shaking my head. "Things needed to change; it seems they have in recent years..." I was getting off track, but found it hard to continue, there was a rather large lump forming in my throat and making it hard to speak around.

Why was I telling Booth all this? It was sure to come back and bite me in the ass. Just like everything else I have ever confided in people. Even Ange couldn't keep things to herself; it soon ended up in Hodgin's hands too. How did I know Booth wasn't going to tell others what I had told him, even if he accidentally let something slip I would feel ashamed, more so than I felt now admitting it to him. A sob escaped my throat much to my embarrassment. How much could I cry in front of him? Was I not over the tears yet? I covered my face, and in seconds his warm body was next to mine. He rested his hand on my lower back.

"Whenever you're ready Bones," he whispered. "I know it must be hard."

"You have _no_ idea how hard it is." I told him, my voice tiny and shaky. I hated this, showing weakness. It made me vulnerable; I had always tried my best to avoid that feeling. My heart was breaking all over again though. "But I need to tell you now, while I can. It might help... might give you an idea of how to help the people dealing with Mary Jane's case... once I saw that photo of Uncle... Thomas Benson holding Mary Jane, and Beatrice, Yvonne and I huddled together beside him... I realised... I have no idea what happened to Beatrice or Yvonne or Mary Jane after Beatrice finally broke free and told someone. What if he's coming back... back... back..." I couldn't finish it at first. I bit my hand and tried to stop the pain in my chest. "For us... coming back for us." I finally said.

I began rocking backwards and forwards, hands now twisting together in my lap. Oh God. I could handle the toughest of criminals, but this one man terrified me enough to make me want to pass at just at the thought of him coming back. Booth's arms wrapped around me, and I gratefully leant into his chest. I couldn't relax, and remained tense... but it felt good knowing Booth was here for me. I knew he would be as long as I needed him too.

_Beatrice. So young, yet so old. She had finally confided in me. She wrote me a note in one of my school books when I was out for a walk only a week after I had been there. It wasn't every night that he asked for her or for Yvonne so far. The letter went into great detail, and I cringed as I read it. Terrified Uncle Tommy would find the letter; I ripped it into tiny pieces and threw it in the skip bin that sat between our unit and the unit next door. I hugged Beatrice close that night. I so rarely heard her voice, only Yvonne's. I supposed I barely spoke either, there was no need. She clung to me. I was the lucky one to them. Yvonne sat on Beatrice's other side and clutched her free arm._

_That night he asked for me. I was ready to put up a fight. While I felt awful for thinking it, I would never let him get away with what he did the way Beatrice and Yvonne did. I would fight for them too, when the time was right. I held my head high, and squared my jaw as I followed him from the room. The words he'd just said bouncing around inside my head and making me feel ill. "Come say good night to Uncle Tommy, Temperance."_

_He closed his bedroom door behind him, and took my hand in his. I knew where he was about to put my hand before he even did it, I had read Beatrice's letter. I fought him. He didn't expect it, and I managed to yank my hand free. "No!" I cried, stumbling backwards and banging into his dresser. "You can't do this, it's not-" he covered my hand with his._

_"I've had difficult ones before, you little bitch. You think I'm not prepared? You think my little Beatrice didn't fight at first too?" I kicked out and struggled until I was nearly suffocating. His hand was now covering my nose too. I clawed at him with my hands to no avail. He dragged me across the room. I kicked out more than ever as he pushed me towards the bed. I caught him in the back of the knee and he went down, his hand finally leaving my face. I took huge gasps of fresh air._

_"You bastard!" I yelled, and made a run for the door, I hadn't managed to turn the handle when I felt a hand clutch a clump of my hair. He yanked me back, and punched me in the face. Something cracked. The pain was excruciating, and the tears sprung to my eyes without warning. I couldn't even open my mouth for the pain. I could taste blood, had I bitten my tongue?_

_"Jeremy, call an ambulance! Temperance fell and banged her head against the wall while playing with Beatrice and Yvonne." He had opened the door and shoved me into the hallway. He had a look of actual concern now. "I'm so sorry sweetie, this isn't how it's supposed to go... its okay... you'll understand eventually... like Beatrice. You'll come to enjoy your time with me. I'm a good foster-parent." He seemed to really believe it too._

I must have screamed during my dream, because Booth had a horrified look on his face when I opened my eyes. He held me closer, but I struggled and he let go. I could barely breathe; I felt like Uncle Tommy's hand was over my mouth and nose once more. Oh God. I buried my head into Booth's chest.

"Please don't put your arms around me," I pleaded. "Just for now... I can't..." I trailed off. With one hand he rubbed my back, giving me one side to turn my head and see that I wasn't trapped, that I could breathe.

These memories of my past that were all coming back were weakening me. They were changing me. How could I be Dr. Temperance Brennan, when I was a victim? I was Temperance the foster child. Temperance the poor girl with no parents. I needed to stop dwelling on the past, but at the same time I _needed_ to remember to help Mary Jane, and Beatrice and others that he may have hurt. I was going to have to open up to someone, and Booth seemed like the best choice for now.

**TBC.**


	5. Sleep

**Chapter 5: Sleep**

**Authors Note: **My apologies for the delay in updates! I cannot believe how busy things have been. And for whatever reason, I always seem to start my multi-chaptered stories around Christmas, and find myself so busy I can't find time to write! I recently found out some bad news, so finding it hard to find the energy, or enthusiasm for writing at the moment. Let me know if my next few chapters just aren't up to scratch! I'll do my best though.

Without further ado, I bring you chapter five!

I hadn't slept properly since I'd discovered the article, learned of Mary Jane's rape and murder. I would close my eyes, and memories would rush back... vivid and dream-like but no sleep, no rest... it was beginning to take its toll on me. Booth seemed to realise this, and gave me a break before we continued our "talk". He ordered in Chinese, and switched my TV on. I sat, legs curled underneath me on the couch. The TV had virtually never been used; I didn't watch it... to me there was no point in it. Reading was the way to go. We talked of nothing of any importance, the weather, last year's Christmas party, about his son Parker. We ate in silence, except for the chatter from the TV, for once it didn't bother me... it meant I didn't have to speak, yet.

"How was he caught out, you said something about Beatrice...?" Booth asked, cautiously once we had finished. I was full, and feeling a bit queasy from the greasy food. I crossed my arms across my chest, and as discretely as possible took a deep breath.

"She... made friends with a school teacher. Blurted it out to her... but then refused to talk to anyone else... even the teacher again. I forget her name. They never had proof of what he was doing, I'm ashamed to say even I didn't admit to any of what happened when I was questioned." I paused, un-crossing my arms and rubbing one hand over my eyes. "In our defence, we had every right to be afraid to say anything... We knew what he was capable of. He'd fractured my jaw and shook a tooth loose for me and broken more than one of Beatrice's bones I'm sure. The... people involved in our case knew something horrible had happened to us."

I couldn't look him in the eye as I spoke. He didn't interrupt, he seemed to know I had to continue or I would lose the courage I had gathered to speak. "But we were removed from the foster home just in case, including little Mary Jane who I didn't know much about... She stayed with our foster-mum in the nursery while I lived there, someone else we rarely saw... they stayed safely hidden. I don't know where the others went." I shook my head. I was all out of tears, but I could see Mary Jane's tiny round face and blue eyes so clearly all of a sudden. What did she look like now? I wondered.

"We're tracking down Beatrice and Yvonne." Booth told me, seeming unsure how to react to all I had told him.

"Is there a recent photo of Mary Jane?" I asked, but my cell phone ringing distracted me. "Dr. Temperance Brennan," I answered.

"Hey Tempe, its Hodgin's," I mouthed '_Hodgin's'_ to Booth, and he nodded. "I've got something you may like to see." I glanced at the clock. 10.00pm?

"Are you still at work?"

"Zach and I had this idea..." He trailed off. "Anyway we've discovered something that could break the case. We need you to come in first thing tomorrow, when you told us about the connection between Cassandra and Maria... we compared our findings in both cases. Same weapon caused injuries to both women." I felt cold all over regardless of the heat outside.

"Thank you, good job. I'll see you at seven? You two need to get home and rest." Hodgin's made an indecipherable noise and hung up.

"You heard all that?" I asked Booth. He looked thoughtful.

"Yeah I did. You need to get to sleep too; I'll pick you up in the morning." He stood, bones popping as he did. He looked tired, nearly as tired as I felt.

"You can sleep in the guest bedroom if you like," I offered, feeling strange inviting him to stay. He looked me in the eyes, and I turned away. I'd told him more than I'd ever told anyone in my life about my childhood. It was hard to pretend it was affecting me, but I felt sick with worry. _Why did I say anything to him at all?_

"Sure," he said. I showed him where to find clean towels, and where I kept a spare toothbrush and all the things I knew you should say when you have a guest, not that I'd had one... in quite some time. He touched my arm before I turned into my bedroom.

"I know it's hard for you, I'm glad you trust me." He told me. I felt guilty but forced a smile. Trusted him? Yes... I suppose I did. But not to the extent he thought I did. Hadn't I been concerned, only moments before about divulging my secrets to him? I faked a yawn, and headed into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me with a soft click.

_"Tempe!" I turned to see Beatrice; she'd called my name, her blue eyes wide with terror. "I made a big mistake," tears pooled in her eyes. I grabbed her arm and dragged her into an empty classroom._

_"What's wrong?"_

_"I was sitting with Lydia... I mean Mrs. O'Donnell... and she asked if I was okay... and I said no... and I told her some stuff that Uncle Tommy did to me... and..." she trailed off, tears beginning to spill from her eyes. "I'm in so much trouble; he's going to kill me." She suddenly collapsed to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest she rocked. "He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me... kill me... kill me," she repeated over and over in a hoarse whisper. I didn't know what to do, or to say. He would kill her if he found out._

_"We can't go home," I told her. "We need to go find Yvonne."_

_"I've taken her to the office." Beatrice told me. "I made her stay with the nurse... I told her to fake a sore tummy."_

_"Okay, we'll collect her... we'll find somewhere to stay for tonight... then we'll figure out what to do from there."_

_Footsteps came closer, and I ducked down with Beatrice. I saw the fear in her eyes, and watched as she withdrew. I didn't hear her speak ever again. Mrs O'Donnell strode into the room, grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, and helped Beatrice up, a little gentler._

_We were back at child and family services from that night onwards. Mary Jane went straight into another foster home my caregiver told me. Beatrice, Yvonne and I went to separate homes. It broke my heart watching Yvonne leave... she was first out of the three of us. My heart didn't break for me, it broke for them. Beatrice and Yvonne had been through so much together, more than me. Beatrice cried, and cried... and cried. I never thought she'd stop. I was the next to go. My last image of the home we were staying in was Beatrice, her pale heart shaped face at the upstairs window, one hand pressed to the glass. I waved, fighting the tears that threatened. Oh God, what would become of Beatrice? I had wondered._

I didn't get much sleep. It was four in the morning, and I couldn't get back to sleep. Not that it mattered, I seemed to wake every hour or so... I wondered if I'd have to resort to sleeping pills. I'm sure I had some in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. But for now, I would just have to get up. Laying here in bed dwelling on things wouldn't help.

But the pain... made me feel like I had a knife in my heart, and every memory I brought up from my past twisted it. I let myself cry. I tried to cry silently, but I gave in, and allowed for tiny sobs. Surely Booth wouldn't... floorboards creaked outside by bedroom door... _hear me_.

"Bones... Tempe..." Before I could stop myself, I sobbed again. A horrible, pitiful sound... he opened the door, and my mattress sunk a little as he sat on the edge, he stroked my hair, and spoke soothingly, like he would speak to Parker I suppose. It made me feel silly, but the pain in my heart subsided to a dull ache. I moved over, and patted the space beside me. I curled up next to him, just taking comfort in the feeling of safety. I rested my head on his chest, and hugged him close. It wasn't a good idea, I knew it... "I just..." I trailed off.

"I know," he told me. "You just need comforting." He stroked my arm. "Nothing more than a friend comforting the other..." A nagging voice at the back of my head asked me if Angela would comfort me like this, but I pushed it away.

**TBC**


	6. Hope

**Chapter 6: Hope**

**Authors Note: **Yeah, after all this time I'm still going to continue it. Can you believe this story has been in my head for four years, and I've only gotten this far? Crazy stuff. Hope y'all still want to read it. I have revised previous chapters since I'm guessing if you do decide to be awesome and re-read my story, you won't have as many mistakes to try and ignore! ;-)

I woke next to Booth. He was still deep asleep so I stayed still, just enjoying how safe I felt in his arms. After laying for a while, all the memories washed over me and sadness enveloped me once more, suffocated me. I wriggled free of Booth's grasp.

"Bones...?" Booth questioned sleepily, rolling to face her. "Are you okay?" Booth's sleep tussled hair, and sleepy brown eyes brought a hint of a smile to my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. We have to leave for work in an hour or so though. I thought I'd go make breakfast, are pancakes okay?" It was then I realised that I would have to climb over Booth to get out. I didn't know what came over me, but I gave him a wicked grin before stepping over him, and bouncing from the mattress to the floor. His eyes followed me, probably he could see a lot from his vantage point.

I blushed as I made my way to the kitchen, wrapping my dressing gown self consciously around me, a little too late though. What had I just done? Booth was a _friend_, my _partner._ I focused on making the pancakes, and tried not to think of anything else. But if I were to be honest with myself, I welcomed the distraction that was Booth.

"Did you dream after you fell back asleep?" He asked, sitting himself down at my table. I knew what he meant, and my heart sunk. I didn't want to think about all of this. I wanted to go back... back to when Uncle Tommy was so buried in my memories that I never thought of him. Now it seemed my entire life revolved around this one man. It seemed so wrong that a man so cruel could take up _so_ much of my life.

"I would have dreamed, yes as its impossible not to... but I don't remember it, no." I forced a smile, and placed a pile of pancakes in front of him, and plonked the maple syrup down in front of him. I sat down and waited for him to begin eating.

"Where is yours?" I blanched. Why didn't I make enough for myself?

"I forgot..." Booth got up, obviously trying to hide his worry. He slid half of his pancakes onto a spare plate and placed it in front of me. The smell made me queasy, but I smiled, and began picking at the food in front of me, chewed and focused on not running to the bathroom.

"It was a crow bar." I froze. A crow bar caused the injuries to both women? Unbidden, images of Cassandra lifting her arms over her face, uselessly trying to protect herself came to mind. How could she protect herself against someone stronger? Someone with a weapon? A _crowbar_. And Mary Jane? I couldn't picture her as an adult, but I saw her fat baby cheeks, and pudgy hands waving in the air, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut tight to stop seeing them. Thomas had killed two girls. Both connected to each other. Yvonne? Beatrice? My thoughts went to them, were they still alive? I glanced at Ange who stood not far from Hodgin's; her face showed she'd finally had the chance to see my fragile appearance.

"Thank you Hodgin's," I forced a smile and turned my back on them all. Zach was saying something else but his voice seemed to be getting further and further away. A warm hand came to rest on my shoulder.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Angela.

"I'll be fine." There was no point in lying, so I told part of the truth. I _would_ be alright, eventually. But right now my sanity seemed to be flying out the window, and I couldn't keep my emotions in check. I began walking back to my office, Angela on my heels. I wanted to tell her to leave so I wouldn't break down in front of her, but I wanted her to stay so I wouldn't have to be alone. "Ange," I turned as we reached my office door to look at her, my eyes filling with tears, she hugged my close, and then led me into my office. My cell phone began ringing as Angela helped settle me onto the couch, my wobbly legs could barely get me there. I looked at my bag but made no move to find my phone. Angela found it for me.

"Doctor Brennan's phone, you're speaking with Angela," I looked at Angela, my eyes slightly un-focused. "Hi Booth," Angela's voice was serious, and her eyes never left me. My tears had stopped flowing, I just felt numb. "Sure, hold on."

"Tempe, sweetie... Do you want to speak to Booth?" I nodded, shook my head, and then reached for the phone. Angela's soulful brown eyes still wouldn't leave me, and I began trembling under her scrutiny, would I have to tell my story again? It was hard enough telling Booth.

"Hey, Tempe, you okay?" He never called me _Tempe_. Something was up.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice cracking half way through. I cleared my aching throat.

"I've tracked down Beatrice." He told me. "She's going to be put into protective custody." I nodded though he couldn't see me. "But I have some bad news..." I shook my head now, pain expanding from my chest, and making my ribs ache. "Yvonne seems to be missing. Her husband reported her missing one month ago."

"Thank you Booth." I told him. And then, realising I hadn't even told him our good news, I told him about the crow bar. The tone of his voice changed now, he seemed more positive.

"That's great; we have a much better chance of getting him now Bones." I let out a sigh. Yes, hopefully we would. But the blood of three girls already tortured had been spilt, nothing could fix that. _Two_ I told myself, maybe only two, maybe Yvonne would be alright.

"I'll talk to you later." I told him, leaning back into the couch I flipped my phone shut.

"Angela..." I began. "Let's get lunch." She didn't push me, just smiled, and I returned it with a tight smile. Silently I readied myself to tell my best friend what was going on. It wasn't going to be easy, but maybe easier now I had told it to Booth.

**TBC.**


	7. Accomplice?

**Chapter 7: Accomplice?**

**Authors Note: **Wow, I really suck at updating. In my defence... I do animal rescue, so my life is pretty insane with all my animals... On top of working, on top of being ill. Yeah I think I have made enough excuses! :-P

This chapter is dedicated to the people of Christchurch. Thinking of you at this terrible time. Xo

"How old would Benson be now?" I pondered aloud, Booth sat across from me at my desk, he'd come in to update me, not that there was much to update.

"73," Booth answered. "I know he would be a lot weaker than when you knew him as a young man." Booth said, reading my mind. "But I imagine if he drugged the girls, or caught them by surprise he would be able to incapacitate them."

"I just can't see a 73 year old wielding a crow bar and hitting women that hard, hard enough to kill them." I told him.

"We should consider whether he has an accomplice then, is that what you're thinking?" He asks, flicking through his file as if something would point to a second person.

"He didn't really have friends back then, I don't know about now, or what happened to his wife, or biological son, they were the only people other than us foster children that he spent time with." Suddenly it dawned on me. Who would be young enough, and strong enough, and close enough to Benson to help him murder? _Jeremy._

"Jeremy." Booth said, reading my mind again. He stood quickly and almost knocked his chair over in the process. "I'm going to track him down. You keep on with the bones, Bones." He smirked at this, and I smiled back, glad that he can still joke... and that he wasn't treating me like a total invalid, even though I'd broken down so many times since I'd first heard of Mary Jane, of Cassandra. My smile fell from my face at the thought of them, but I didn't feel as down as I had been, and felt more energised, and ready to track down whomever did this to these women, whether it be Benson or Jeremy, or both. We'd get them.

"Okay Hodgin's I need you to do another experiment. I need to know how much force there would have been needed to kill the victims." The victims, it was much easier than thinking of them as Mary Jane and Cassandra. He nodded; I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he went over ideas.

"I'll find Zach," he said. I could tell he was pleased to be able to create another experiment. Those two made good mad scientists. I left the lab, and headed for Angela's office next.

"Angela?" I ask as I turn the corner into her office, she looks up, a worried smile on her face.

"How are you doing honey?" She asks, standing. Angela is beautiful, she has long curly hair which doesn't seem to frizz in the rain the way mine does, and she has an exotic kind of beauty to her. I can see why men get distracted when they see her.

"I'm okay," I answer truthfully. _Yes_ truthfully. I was finally feeling okay, not great, but okay... And it was a big step. "I need you to do something for me..." I asked her to pull up a photo of Jeremy, Benson's son. Once she had done that, I explained to her how I wanted her to increase Jeremy's age in the photo – so that we would know what he would look like now. Angela agreed, and as I turned to leave she rested her hand on my shoulder.

"If you need anything babe, let me know okay?" I nodded, and left.

Just before reaching my office my cell phone began ringing. The tone told me it was Booth, so I picked up straight away.

'Hey Bones,'

'Hey,'

'I've tracked down Jeremy, he is living in Washington. I'm going to go and pay him a visit this afternoon. Just so you know.'

'Is Benson still in custody?'

'Yeah, but they can't hold him much longer. They have no evidence. We brought him in on a traffic violation. When he's out we will be putting you in protective custody like we have Beatrice, just so you know.' I frowned at this. I didn't like the idea. While I wanted to be safe, I didn't want to be removed from the case, which would likely happen.

'Can you call me once you've talked to Jeremy?' I asked, telling him I wouldn't be going with him for this interview in a round-a-bout way.

'I will, you take care of yourself Bones.' I close my phone and enter my office, my safe haven.

I think of Beatrice. I want to see her; I want to talk with her. She's the only one who understands exactly how I feel. At the same time, I know seeing her will probably take me back to square one, I'll be an emotional mess. Plus I don't know where she is, and asking Booth would mean too much of an explanation. With a heavy sigh I stand and rub my eyes. I have to stop thinking about her, and concentrate on the remains, I have to find evidence that we definitely are dealing with Benson... And possibly Jeremy. A shiver runs down my spine at this thought, and I quicken my pace back to the lab.

**TBC.**


	8. Panic

**Chapter 8: Panic**

..

Today had dragged more than usual. I hadn't heard from Booth since he had told me he was going to see Jeremy. My feet felt leaden, and my head throbbed dully telling me I needed more sleep. I walked towards my car in the dark, wishing the sensor lights in the parking lot would come on so I could see where I was going, I had already stumbled a couple of times.

..

Oh God, my head hurt more now. And what was that smell? I tried to open my eyes... But either they wouldn't open or I was in _complete_ darkness. Trying my best not to panic I took a delicate sniff trying to place the smell. Soil? Decaying organic matter of some sort. Why could I smell that? I tried to raise my hand to rub my aching head, but found my arms tied tightly in front of me. Oh _shit._ Not good. I tried my legs next... Another no go, my ankles seem bound too. Panic began creeping in now, a scream rose in my throat and I held it back letting out a whimper instead. Where the hell was I? What had happened? I racked my fuzzy mind for the last thing I could remember... Talking to Angela, asking her to sort out a picture of what Jeremy would look like now... And then what...? I must have been drugged, or hit hard enough to cause short term memory loss. Another bad sign.

"Help!" I yelled without thinking. Obviously I was far enough from civilisation that my captor knew no one would hear me or he would have gagged me as well. I let out another whimper, a chill running down my spine. An image of Booth entered my mind, he would rescue me. He had to. I held onto the image with all I could until footsteps distracted me. I twisted my head to where I thought the footsteps had come from and blinked over and over trying hard to see, to see _anything_ at all, but everything was a fuzzy black.

"Hello?" I tried to keep the shivering from my body from showing in my voice, but it sounded weak, scared.

"Hello Temperance," full blown panic struck me now, I wriggled and threw my body around with all my might. How had I not known _he_ was in the room with me? I could feel, and hear him moving closer.

"Don't struggle too much m'dear, you'll harm yourself." I struggled harder at this, and bit my tongue accidentally and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Please _no..._ no... not _him_!

Strong hands suddenly pushed down on my shoulders immobilising me. He's _old_ Bones; he's _weak_, fight back! I raised my bound legs as high as I could, and my arms and swung blindly. I heard an 'oomph' and he let go for a moment.

"You little _bitch_." He growled, and I heard him stomp heavily away, a flicker of light from far away as he left through a heavy door, and then silence.

..

I don't know how long I've been lying here, but I'm shaking uncontrollably, and the ropes have rubbed my wrists and ankles raw. I think I'm losing feeling in my toes and fingertips, but it's hard to tell, maybe it's the fear making me feel like this. Right now I almost wish to hear his voice again, Uncle Tommy. He has a distinct voice, even if he sounds older, hoarser now than he did when I was a child. I want to hear anything, see anything just to prove to me that I'm still alive. Because this silence, this blackness is starting to drive me insane. I wonder if I'm left down here long enough that I _will_ be driven insane. Would Sweets be able to fix me after something that traumatising?

'Booth,' I say aloud, my voice sounds so loud. 'Please come for me. Please figure this out. Please come for me.' I pleaded, and shook, and dragged in heaving breaths, trying my hardest not to panic again. _Just breathe evenly Temperance... In, out, in, out..._

..

TBC.

Sorry this is a short chapter, a bit of a taste for what is to come. ;-) Should be updated very soon. Tomorrow or next day probably. :-) Remember to review!


	9. Rats & Rabbits

**Chapter 9**: Rats & Rabbits

..

Can rabbit make noises? I can't remember. I am going through every memory of rabbits I can think of. The rabbit we had as a class pet, what was her name? Tinkerbell? I think... She was white with blue eyes, a bit of an anomaly, they normally had red eyes. And the wild rabbits I sometimes saw at the park when I went running... I wouldn't know if they could make noises, they dashed away after only a glimpse. And that time I walked into the pet store, just for the sake of it... They had bunnies there too. Little white ones with brown patches and cute little eyes. I've always kind of liked rabbits, ever since I was little. I remember asking Santa for a rabbit one year. The reason I'm thinking about rabbits is because I can hear little feet rushing around down here. Scratching, and sniffing. And the only alternative to rabbits would be rats. And I _do not_ like rats, at all. But while I've been bringing up every image of rabbits in my past that I can, something at the back of my mind is nagging to come forward. Something about rats, and rabbits, and small animals. _What is it?_

The throbbing in my head grows, and I shuffle my body over a little, trying to get comfortable. I nearly scoff out loud, comfortable? In here? I let out a half hearted laugh. Just because if I don't laugh, then it's just a thick silence, with the odd scattering of dirt as the little creatures run over the ground. I feel sick. Literally queasy at the thought of them touching me, and I move a little more, coughing loudly at the same time. When I make strange, or loud noises they seem to move further away, but when I stay still I can hear them move closer. I think they're waiting for me to die, to scavenge on my body. It would make sense. I think if I was a rat and I found a fresh carcass I'd eat the flesh too. I shiver and with a gurgle from my stomach bile rises to my throat. Not only am I hungry, I'm afraid and the anxiety is making me want to vomit what little I do have in my stomach back up again.

What is that thought nagging at the back of my mind? What are small animals good at? Suddenly, it comes to me. They're good at getting into small places, squeezing into tiny gaps, digging with their sharp little claws. They're also good at surviving, being a prey species, they know how to hide. How had the rats gotten in here in the first place? Squinting, I turn my head as far as I can towards the door Uncle Tommy had left through, how long ago? I don't know. I try and make out even a pinpoint of light, but I see nothing, nothing but black. I turn my head as far as I can the opposite way, craning my head to look beyond my feet... Or where I think they are, I'm starting to feel like my body isn't really mine anymore, it's kind of numb. I still can't see any light, no matter how hard I strain my eyes, or how many 'directions' I look into. I feel like somehow I'm missing a spot... In the darkness it's hard to know how big this room is. _You have to move Temperance._ I tell myself. I know I have to move. I have to move because I'm cold, because I'll lose circulation if I stay too still, because if I don't move I'll go crazier than I feel already.

With all the strength I can muster, I throw my body to the side, but I can't quite get onto my stomach. I try again, and again. But my muscles just don't seem to be responding very well. _You've waited too long Temperance. You're losing function in your arms and legs._ Anger flows through me. Why should I die like this? Why should I let Uncle Tommy hurt me? Why? Why do I deserve this? I'm a smart woman, I do good things in this world, I _help_ people. I shuffle backwards, or forwards whatever you want to call it, digging my heels into the ground my bound ankles screaming in protest at being moved even slightly. I push until my head bumps into a wall, and then I stretch my hands as far back as I can until my hands are touching the wall. The walls aren't solid concrete like I had imagined in my mind, they seem to be wood, and it feels like my finger tips are touching the edge of a shelf of some sort above my head. I wiggle further, my neck bent awkwardly, my back bent, and my arms stretched as far above me as I can, and finally my finger tips find purchase on the shelf.

..

"Temperance," I freeze, my fingertips have grabbed the shelf, I am ready to pull myself up. But I can hear him coming down some stairs, he is calling me. Panic. Do I use the shelf to get up, will it help me? Something told me not to. So I immediately wiggled my way down the wall, and shuffled as far from the shelf as I could, but the door opened before I could remember how far I'd come to get to the shelf. Would he remember where he had left me on the floor?

"Hello," there is a flashlight on me now; my eyes feel like they are burning out of their sockets, so I close my eyes. Oh God how I had wanted to see light, now I want anything but. "How are you?" He is standing over me, I can feel him, the light isn't directly on my eyes now, but I keep them tightly closed. "Well that's a stupid question, I suppose you're no feeling good at all." He chuckles, and the bile rises to my throat again. He's revolting, he's _so_ disgusting. "No need to answer me sweetheart, I have someone for you to meet though. He doesn't like silence, he likes manners... And it's manners to greet someone. Isn't it?" I try and open my eyes, but even with the flashlight aimed away from my face, the light is too much.

"Hello," I say shakily. If I had grabbed that shelf, what could I have done? Could I have escaped? Why hadn't I thought to grab it earlier?

"Hello Temperance, do you remember me?" I don't recognise the voice. I don't know what to say. Does he want me to remember him? I'll remember him if he wants me to. I just don't want to be hurt, I don't want to die.

"I... Uh..." I begin, hoping he would give me a hint.

"Oh well, in time you will." He says confidently. "Now Tom, I'll move her to the bed, do you want to fetch her dinner for her?" Food. My stomach growls loudly. "Now don't fight me Tempe," I stay very still as hands slide under my upper back, and the top of my thighs. He lifts me, and I pull my face as far from his chest as I can. I can smell his aftershave, and mints. I think, if I ever get out of this, I will feel sick whenever I smell either of these things.

"Here is your bed Tempe, we are sorry we had to leave you on the ground for so long." He carried me quite a distance, and through an open door, I can open my eyes briefly before needing to close them again, and my aching eyes caught glimpses of empty walls, empty shelves, dirt floor, and a little box of a room, the room he's brought me into now. There is a bed in here, and he has placed me on the mattress. I don't want to be appreciative of such monsters. But all I can think is... This mattress is the softest thing I've ever felt beneath me. Probably this is not true, but after the cold hard floor, I've never felt something so good.

"Uncle Tommy will bring you your dinner. I'll untie your hands so you can eat. But I want you to know that I do have a gun. While I don't want to use it... I will if I have to. You have already injured him... And we can't have that happening again." Something I noticed about the man who lifted me was he had well defined muscles. This man was strong. He was the killer, not Uncle Tommy. But if he had a gun, why did he kill the girls with a crow bar? I open my eyes squinting against the ache, but his face is in the shadows. "Are you ready for some light?" I nod my head in his direction. "I can't hear you Temperance." He says.

"Yes please." I say. I can't believe how pathetic I sound. But I guess that is because I want to survive. I think. I hear a click, and look towards the soft glow of a lamp, it illuminates that side of the room, and then he moves to the other side of the room and clicks another lamp on. The whole room is illuminated, I'm still squinting, but the light is less harsh than the flashlight. "Thank you." I tell him. He turns to me, and I see him properly. He's a tall man, and I was right, with well defined muscles. He has a pretty normal looking face; his nose is crooked like it's been broken before.

"You're still so pretty Tempe," he says softly, his rough fingertips running down my face. "That cop you work with, or fed or whatever. He's real worried about you. I can see why..." I pause, my eyes fill with tears even though I try hard to remain calm, I can't. _Booth._ This man has met Booth. My fuzzy brain finally puts two and two together. This is _Jeremy._

..

**TBC.**


	10. Like a dove

**Authors Note:** (And for you people allergic to authors notes? IMPORANT NOTICE) Okay guys, I have a lot of people put this story on their alert, and even on their 'favourites' list. Now I know I'm a slack updater (about 3 years between chapters... Oops!) So whether you're reading this because it's the worst story you've ever found, or whether you're actually enjoying it... You're reading it, so leave me a review and let me know! It encourages me to write :)

**Previously:** "_You're still so pretty Tempe," he says softly, his rough fingertips running down my face. "That cop you work with, or fed or whatever. He's real worried about you. I can see why..." I pause, my eyes fill with tears even though I try hard to remain calm, I can't. Booth. This man has met Booth. My fuzzy brain finally puts two and two together. This is Jeremy._

**Chapter 10:** Like a dove

...

I just stare at him now. I rack my brain trying to remember what he looked like back _then_. He has a smug smile on his face.

"You remember me now, don't you?" I can't move my eyes from his face; a feeling of horror fills me. How the hell am I going to get out of this? I need Booth. Panic begins seeping back into my bones, but before it takes hold of me, I hear a noise. Jeremy looks towards the door, but doesn't move his gun from my side. If he shoots me, there isn't much of a chance of survival, the bullet will tear through my stomach and I will bleed out slowly. While he's distracted is the best time to move, but I don't know how. Another noise, louder this time has Jeremy on his feet, his gun moved in front of him. "Benson?" He calls out.

Before I can think too much of the repercussions, I spring to my feet with all my remaining energy I throw myself at him, my bound arms swinging. Awkwardly I land on top of him. I'm surprised I've managed to knock him down at all; he grunts but throws me off before I can figure out what to do next. My head smacks against the edge of the bed, and my vision goes wobbly. I can see him reaching for the gun, and hopelessly I try and knock it out of his reach with my feet, but he picks it up easily, and lets out a growl like a dog and steps towards me.

This is not the first time I've had a gun pointed at my head. A sudden calm comes over me. I'm going to die... I smile at him, and he freezes. "What are you smiling at?" He asks through his teeth.

"I'm not afraid of you Jeremy." I tell him. Before he can respond, the door to the room suddenly flys inwards and hits Jeremy. I see it happening, and curl into a fetal position as Jeremy's body and the door fly into me.

"Bones...!" Hands are pulling me out, warm hands, familiar hands. Booth is here. Booth has saved me. "Oh God, Bones." His hands are cupped around my face. His eyes are roving my body, searching every inch for injuries. I lift my bound hands up, and move my arms over his head.

"Get me out of here Booth." I tell him. He puts his gun in its holster, and scoops me up in his arms. I relax into him, and feel my aching body give out. Before I pass out, I pull my face from where it is tucked into his shoulder, and look him in the eyes. "Thank you," I think it's the most heartfelt thank you I have ever given.

..

"Booth...?" I squint in the semi-darkness. I'm in hospital, I can smell disinfectant, and hear the beeping of hospital machinery around me. I can see his silhouette hunched in a chair not far from my bed.

"Bones," he sounds hopeful, and he stands and moves straight to my side. "They're both in custody Bones, we've got them. You're safe." He reads my mind, knows what I need to hear.

"How did you find me?" I ask, inching my way into a sitting position. My wrists and ankles burn from the ropes that bound them and my head throbs dully.

"After interviewing Jeremy I tried calling you. When I couldn't get hold of you, I assumed you were sleeping. I headed back to the bureau to go over my interview notes. I got caught up on the phone to Parker though, so I didn't call you again until too late..." He says regretfully, I can see the pain crossing his face.

"I'm okay Booth," I stretch my hand out, and place it on his. He holds onto my hand, squeezing gently.

"When I realised something was wrong I headed to the Jeffersonian. I saw your car... And blood..." He touches a bandage on my temple. "And I knew who had got you. I knew, in my gut that it was Jeremy. He didn't have an alibi for the other murders... I got a warrant and searched his apartment, but obviously didn't find you." He looks so intense; I can't look at his eyes. I can feel how scared he was. "I tricked him into believing that I thought it wasn't him, that we were just covering all bases by searching his apartment." His hand tightens around my hand. "We kept surveillance on his apartment without him knowing, I don't think he's the smartest cookie in the batch." I chuckle.

"Benson has the brains, not Jeremy." I say, and smile encouragingly. I don't think it's easy for him to recount what happened.

"Eventually he left, and we followed him out to the house he was keeping you at. We waited at the end of the driveway for over an hour. I've never had time move so slowly Bones, all I wanted to do was go in there and find you. But without knowing you were in there, or what we were going in to..." He took in a shaky breath. "We mapped out the house, taking turns slipping up to the house in the dark, and watching both Benson's moving around. That's how we saw the trapdoor under the rug in the lounge. When Jeremy stayed downstairs and Thomas Benson came upstairs... We took our chance and entered. And you know the rest." He leans forward, and his free hand comes up to my face. "I am so glad to have you back." I smile at him, his dark eyes, his jaw still tensed after telling me his side of what happened.

"I don't remember much," I admit. "I just remember going to my car... And then the next thing I know I'm in the basement of that house, he bound my hands & feet." I look away from him. "I don't think he did anything to me." Booth's thumb rubs small circles on my hand still resting in his.

"Bones, he _did_ do something to you. He kidnapped you. He tied you up..." He trailed off at the daggers I stared at him.

"I _know_ that. You know what I am talking about." He nods at this looking sheepish. "They took me into that little room after what felt like forever being on that cold floor, with rats all around me." I shudder at this thought. "I felt like I was going crazy in the dark, in the cold, the silence. How long was I down there for?"

"That night, and we found you around dinner time the following day." He moves himself to sit next to me on the bed, and I curl myself into him.

"I was so scared Booth." He places his arm around my shoulders, and I tuck my head into his chest. The tears I'd tried so hard to keep at bay suddenly prickled at my eyes, and I let them fall, silently soaking into Booth's shirt.

"I know." He kisses the top of my head. "I was too."

..

**TBC.**

...


End file.
